


Choreo

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis reports for dance lessons.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Choreo

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s only one thing in life Noctis ever shows up early for, and that’s dance practice. School, council meetings, even visits from his father—Noctis is _always_ late for those, because his future and the fate of the country just aren’t worth waking up for. _Dancing_ isn’t either. But _Ignis_ is, so Noctis sets his alarm and actually abides by it. He spends extra time getting dressed, fixing his hair, even puts on cologne—he wants to look _nice_. It’s only fitting, since Ignis is always stunning. 

Ignis is always waiting in his studio, practicing by himself long before Noctis arrives. Noctis never announces himself. He lets himself in to the building and barely says two words to the receptionist, veering off down the hall and creeping as silently as possible through the glass door. He doesn’t want to interrupt his instructor. Ignis is still deep in concentration, focused solely on his art. The contemporary instrumental piece echoes through the empty space and clings to Ignis’ lithe body, guiding him through one fluid step after another. In these moments, Ignis is otherworldly. He’s too elegant to be human. He may as well be one of the Sixth, or a messenger, sent to teach humanity a sense of grace they’ve long since forgotten. 

Noctis is supposed to be learning _grace_. He had the choice of a number of different structured, ‘classical’ activities to give him an air of dignity. He didn’t want to do any of them. He wanted to slouch, eat potato chips, and play video games. Then he saw _Ignis_ and practically tripped over himself in an attempted pirouette. 

Ignis is classically trained. But his preferred choreography is more abstract. He tends towards emotional pieces, ones that highlight the long, lean lines of his taut figure. Many of them are unintentionally _sensual_ , or maybe that’s just Noctis’ take because he’s horribly smitten. He doesn’t care how stupid he looks trying to balance on his toes. He just wants to see Ignis roll that perfect body in time to a rhythmic beat. 

Ignis finally spots Noctis in the wall-length mirror and straightens out of his arched pose. Noctis can see every muscle beneath the tight black clothes he wears. He strolls forward in sharp, pointed steps, posture flawless. He’d look better on the throne than Noctis ever will.

He’d look best in Noctis’ lap in the throne, but that’s not a good thing to think about in the thin yoga pants Noctis is squeezed into. Ignis greets him with a trim smile and a prim, “Good morning, Your Highness. Are you ready for your private lesson?”

Noctis swallows and mutters, “Yeah.” He’s still a little sore from his training with Gladiolus earlier, but rolling around with a set of exposed beefcake abs has Noctis in the perfect mood for more one-on-one tumbling around with attractive men. Not that they do a lot of tumbling. Ignis doesn’t think Noctis is ready for ‘tricks’ yet. 

Noctis doesn’t care if he never learns to do more than the worm. He just wants to see Ignis doing everything.

Ignis extends his hand, and Noctis takes it, following his teacher to their makeshift center stage.


End file.
